Chapter Sixteen
Rosie waited at the bottom of the steps as Connor dashed back into the flat.
It was getting chilly and she stamped her feet to keep out the cold as she looked around.
Many of the flats now had Christmas decorations or candles adorning their windows, or strands of twinkling lights.
One of the flats opposite had gone one step further with an inflatable snowman on their balcony.
Connor emerged a few seconds later carrying a silver and purple gift bag.
‘Thanks for waiting. I half-expected you might have driven off,’ he said, with an embarrassed laugh. ‘I know I’ve been a bit of an idiot. A lot, actually,’ he corrected himself, ‘but I want you to know that…’
She waited, desperately wanting him to finish the sentence, but instead he held out the bag. ‘Anyway, Happy Christmas, Florence.’
His hand brushed against hers as she took it, and a spark flickered up her arm.
She stared back at him, shocked at the visceral response.
Before she could think about whether it was a good idea, she closed the gap between them and placing her hand on his shoulder, she kissed him delicately on the cheek.
The scent of his aftershave was warm and spicy, and it stirred feelings in her that she thought were dead and buried a long time ago. ‘Happy Christmas to you too.’
Before she could step away, Connor gently slipped his arm around her waist. He smiled, paused for a second, then cupped his hand gently under her chin and brought his mouth to hers.
His lips were warm and inviting, and he tasted of the strawberry flavoured sweet he’d been sucking a few minutes earlier.
His fingers toyed with a stray curl of hair that had escaped her hairband as he ran his lips along her cheek and down her neck sending a tingling sensation down her spine.
As Rosie shivered, both arms snaked around her back and she didn’t resist when he pulled her closer to him.
Now, finally, she understood the dangerous attraction of Connor Forbes, and for a few blissful minutes, nothing else mattered as she revelled in his sensual kisses and the feel of his body pressed tight against hers.
Connor brought his mouth to her ear again. ‘Are you sure you won’t come in?’ he whispered.
Her heart rate quickened, but she hesitated. This was stepping over a line; was that because she still thought of herself as married? Or was it misplaced loyalty? Surely that period of mourning ended when she discovered James’ infidelity?
Reluctantly she disengaged herself and took his hands in hers. ‘I’d better go.’
Connor walked with her to the car. Her legs were trembling and as soon as she was out of sight, she pulled over to catch her breath.
What just happened back there? She was seconds away from agreeing to go indoors with Connor, and she knew full well that it wasn’t for a cup of tea.
So what was the problem? Didn’t she fancy having sex with Connor Forbes?
The problem, Rosie decided later that evening, was that it could never be more than just sex. Connor lived in a different world to her; he was temporarily out of his normal orbit, but she’d glimpsed his world with its glamour and finery and it didn’t appeal.
She much preferred the peace and solitude of her garden despite the fact it was now winter, and in the new year she would start planning what she might grow.
In the meantime, she would give some thought to what she could make for Anna’s hospital appeal, and which, she acknowledged guiltily, she’d done nothing about yet.
With the Christmas break rapidly approaching, she resolved to make time for this.
*
Rosie had always spent Christmas with her mum, even during the period she’d been married, either at their flat, or more often, Rosie and James had stayed at her mum’s place.
Last year she had been too distraught to participate in anything Christmas related, and the build up to the big day with the sparkling shop windows, the arrival of Christmas cards addressed only to her containing sympathetic messages, and Christmas party invites (which she turned down) seemed only to highlight her loss.
Despite her mum’s best efforts, the atmosphere over Christmas Day had been decidedly sombre.
This year, Rosie had started something new with her garden project, something just for herself, and it felt like she had turned a corner.
A new beginning. And wasn’t that what Christmas was all about?
She had arrived on Christmas Eve with her overnight bag and presents for her mum, which she placed under the Christmas tree.
Her mum always had a real tree that infused the room with a nostalgic pine scent, while proudly displaying years of Rosie’s home-made decorations.
They’d had dinner together and watched Carols from King’s, which her mum had recorded earlier in the evening.
The music was as inspiring as always but for entertainment value, the choristers of King’s College, Cambridge didn’t come close to the members of Years 1 and 2 at Bridge Park Academy.
On Christmas morning, Rosie woke early. It felt weird sleeping in her old bedroom; it brought back memories of that teenage girl who used to lie here in the dark, making plans and dreaming big.
She wished she could speak to her now and tell her not to give up, to hold on tight to her dreams whatever happened in the future, and seize any chances life gives you, because she sure as hell found out the hard way that there weren’t all that many, and those chances that did come along never seemed to last for ever.
She switched on the bedside light and retrieved the silver and purple gift bag from Connor, which she’d kept upstairs rather than placing it with the other presents under the tree.
As she climbed back into bed, it reminded her of another time even further in the past before her dad died, when she would wake early to find a stocking at the end of her bed bulging with exciting looking parcels.
She lifted out the first present, which was wrapped in purple tissue paper.
Inside was a pair of sturdy cream coloured gardening gloves which she immediately tried on.
They would be very useful, and they fitted perfectly; she held her hands to her face and inhaled the warm scent of leather.
The next present out of the bag was square and surprisingly light for its size.
As Rosie unwrapped the box of teabags, she laughed at the note Connor had added to the label:
For fussy people who only like builder’s tea!
The next present was a long, cylindrical shape which turned out to be a tin of Fortnum & Mason’s Rose biscuits, and at the bottom of the bag was a key ring in the shape of a pair of green wellington boots. Rosie decided she would use it for the key to her tool store.
She hadn’t expected all this, but they were all wonderfully thoughtful gifts and as she snuggled down under the duvet for a few extra minutes of warmth, she switched on her phone so she could send Connor a text.
Thank you for my wonderful Christmas presents – I will have to make an extra effort on your garden now! Will bring own teabags but might not share the biscuits.
She added some festive emojis, smiley faces and then added an ‘x’ after her name.
The reply pinged back while she was eating breakfast with her mum.
Thx for yours 2. Subtle or what?!
Rosie smiled. It had been a last-minute purchase but since he’d built his television career and reputation on his kitchen programmes, the least he could do was learn to cook. Recipes Made Simple seemed to fit the requirements nicely.
She typed back a cheeky reply: Can’t have you cheating the public, Mr Forbes!!!
‘You youngsters can’t keep away from your phones, can you?’
Rosie looked up guiltily. ‘Sorry, Mum, I’ll switch it off.’
Katharine smiled fondly at her daughter. ‘I’m pleased you’re keeping in touch with your friends. And that reminds me, Anna and Simon are coming over for lunch tomorrow, so you will stay, won’t you, darling?’
Boxing Day lunch with Anna was another of her mum’s long-standing traditions that Rosie used to be co-opted into before she got married.
After that the arrangements changed and for the eight years she was married to James, they had driven over to his parents on Christmas evening and stayed for Boxing Day.
If she was honest, it wasn’t exactly fun spending half the evening playing card games, but that might have been because she had never quite grasped the rules of bridge, and James had got irritated when she made silly mistakes.
In contrast, Boxing Day entertainment with Anna and Simon tended to be less intense, with lots of chat interspersed with watching Christmas telly programmes, although “watching” implied people sitting passively in front of the box.
In Simon and Anna’s case, the programme was frequently accompanied by a running commentary which made the experience feel more like a live action version of Gogglebox.
Anna and Simon arrived shortly after midday and as she hugged Rosie, Anna apologised again for upsetting her over the Little Angels project.
Rosie assured her she was fine, and in all honesty she was pleased to find something to do that would make a difference to someone.
Although the ‘I’m fine thanks’ response was automatic, and there was still the accompanying stab of grief, Rosie realised that being able to talk about what happened had been helpful, and maybe this was another step in the right direction.